


waiting

by futile_devices



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: ...phiran i will be waiting in the afterlife, M/M, altina ment, bk armor sucks js, gawain ment, i really have no idea what to put in tags, i wrote this like 2 months ago and im still just sadcatting about it, just really sad about them sorry, second playthrough came into my house and called me a bitch, this was prompted by fun heroes stuff but feh isnt relevant with this, what are words compared to a lifetime together, what kind of talk do you think the two had before they went to their respective levels of the tower?, what like i would ignore her, zelgius is waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futile_devices/pseuds/futile_devices
Summary: "I shall be waiting.""Yes, of course. As will I."[what kind of talk, do you think, the two had, before they went into their respective levels of the tower]





	waiting

It’s only a glance of course; needless words were needless, but Zelgius knows what his master wishes to say, what he might say if his throat did not refuse the songs that once filled the forest of his home. He needs nothing more, to say that he did would be in complete mockery of the last 24 years of his life (what now seems like the only years, the ones that mattered. As much as Zelgius would wish to forget his childhood, the words his family would brand him as are seared into his mind, but at least they are remedied by the softness in which Lehran speaks his name, as if it were a melody and not a name that will soon go down in history as another arrogant general serving the wills of a power far greater than he is). Silence falls over the two with the weight of the world bearing down upon them but they simply continue their preparations, lithe fingers trailing over pitch-black armor, an unspoken question lining the touch as the helmet is handed towards him. It’s only the look in his master’s eyes, ones that when you see the glint of the sun you can only imagine the wings that would spread from his back (Zelgius always wondered what his lord sage looked like before, the black heron, Ashunera’s chosen before his powers faded away).

The armor is imposing, weight as heavy as he remembered, like some monument to his sins, though such things never mattered. A part of him wished he would never have to wear it again, and the way in which his master’s deft fingers flip through his tome tells Zelgius he will receive his wish. Alondite shares in its burden, though it always had, even before it struck Gawain true, even before it spelled the end of thousands of innocents that stood in the way of his lord. Upon it lingers Altina’s touch, and it is almost a shadow that casts over his form, some other height to reach in order to be something, _anything_ that was not what his family believed he was. A standard to live up to in more ways than just bladework. Still, a sword is far lighter than armor though both have seen the destruction of many in the name of only one.

Some time passes, and the air is cold at the entrance of Ashera’s tower, though the whole world felt blanketed by frigidity and complacency that simply told one to lay down, embrace the peace and throw down any weapon.

His master finishes first, after airing his wings and binding them once more, and staves carefully chosen, and Zelgius follows suit a few moments after but they must feel like an eternity with what looms over him. But if this was eternity, then Zelgius would take it, even on the precipice of annihilation, this moment finds greater fondness than any charge upon the battlefields or the equal eternities of waiting outside the senate chamber, for it is a moment in the presence of another. It is a foolish thought of course, for they have not completed their task and the world would not stop for the wishes of one man who only desired to escape shame and isolation.

It is only a glance that tells Zelgius everything.

Oh but even then, nothing could make him turn away, for how could he leave when his world stands in front of him? He is only a blade in Lehran’s hands, no other wielder, no other purpose.

He knows better than to be hopeful. _“My lord.”_

His master turns around to face him, and Zelgius, for a moment, only stares, as if searing the memory in his mind, alongside all the others (though those will always fail to be grander).

_“I shall be waiting.”_

There’s a promise beneath the words. Let the world be consumed by waves once more and still Zelgius would stand, waiting.

Yet, waiting for what? For how long?

 _“Yes, of course.”_ and though he can barely see it, his master’s lips curl up slightly, and that is another sight committed to memory but the sorrow in his eyes seem to betray it. _“As will I.”_

And it’s left at that.


End file.
